


There are some wounds one cannot simply put a band-aid on

by TheLoneReader



Series: Of goats and men [1]
Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: Family, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneReader/pseuds/TheLoneReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger and Rafa are in a relationship, but decided to keep things quiet and tell as little people as possible. However, when a little girl everyone knows as Roger’s daughter comes running for Rafa in the middle of a charity dinner, things might get a little complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rafa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fictional work that has no basis in reality. No disrespect is intended to anyone. 
> 
> This is an AU where Rafa doesn’t have a girlfriend, and where the press is unaware of any of his past relationships. Roger was married with a childhood friend, and they had a daughter together before getting a divorce. Said daughter is now 5 years old.

 

 

Rafael Nadal sighed, and angrily shoved his fists in his slacks’ pockets. He was always uncomfortable at these official things, and tonight’s dinner was no different. He had seriously considered skipping the whole event, but the only thing it had gained him had been a severe scolding from Tio Toni and a lecture about how important these charity galas were for his image and that representatives from all his sponsors would be there and would expect to see him. So he had put on his (slightly wrinkled) tuxedo and reluctantly let his uncle drag him to the party. He got bored ten minutes in. A couple of hours later, he had had to help Fernando put a (rather alarmingly) drunk Feliciano into a cab, and had felt a serious wave of envy as he watched his two countrymen escape the premises. After that, he kind of hanged out awkwardly in a corner of the room, trying to avoid being spotted by the chatty Nike representative. He was really starting to fall asleep with boredom, but couldn’t think of anybody he particularly wanted to talk to. Toni was at the bar, discussing some serious matter with a tournament director (the mere thought of joining in made Rafa’s toes curl into his barely worn dress shoes) and David Ferrer was so wrapped up in his girlfriend, whom he was just reunited with after three weeks of separation, that Rafa had felt bad interrupting them earlier. No other Spaniard was present this night, and Rafa didn’t feel like bothering with English. What he would actually have had wanted was to just tag along at Roger’s side, and let him do the talking for the both of them whenever somebody came near, while admiring the elegant curve of his lover’s neck and the way his luscious brown hair curled gently against the collar of his crisp white shirt. But he knew Toni would have a stroke if he came within a mile radius of the Swiss in public. Rafa had protested grumpily that ignoring his fellow player just fuelled the media’s rumours about the whole they-can’t-stand-each-other thingy, but Toni had looked grim and told him that, until he learned how to control his love-sick looks, it was the only option. Rafa had gotten bright red at that, and let the matter drop entirely.

Rafa finally spotted an empty table with a huge flowerpot resting in the centre, and dropped in a chair contentedly. He swiftly rearranged the leaves in front of his face to stay out of the line of sight of the major part of the room while keeping a good view himself. People were mingling happily, in a formal-yet-quite-laid-back atmosphere (the champagne had definitively helped with the latter). The players were loudly calling out to each other, a drink in hand, their spouses firmly planted by their side, or on the contrary, fleeing from the boisterous tennismen and women. There were several kids running around, playing with each other, completely disregarding the language barriers.

 

Rafa rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was starting to relax a little, when he was startled by a beautiful, blond woman in a red dress sliding in the chair next to him. She looked strangely familiar. He swallowed a small groan when he realised where he knew her from. She worked for an American magazine, the name of which he couldn’t remember for the life of him. Press wasn’t invited to the dinner, which indicated she was probably someone’s plus one, but Rafa knew better than assuming that meant she wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to make the evening profitable for her job.

‘Nice party isn’t it?’ she said in a bubbly tone.

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

‘Here with anyone?’ she added sweetly, making huge doe eyes at him. He resisted the instinct to roll his own eyes. Did she seriously think she was being subtle? He never talked about his relationship status to the media, he wasn’t about to start now. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to ignore her, when he felt a hand punch his shoulder playfully.

‘Hey Rafa’, exclaimed Serena Williams jovially. ‘What are you up to? Long time no see!’

‘Hum…’

‘Yeah, you _have_ got to come get a drink with us!’ insisted Caroline Wozniacki, grabbing his forearm and dragging him to his feet. ‘You don’t mind if we borrow him for a while, do you?’ she added in the direction of the journalist, and then proceeded to pull Rafa away from the table without waiting for an answer.

 

‘You’re welcome’, she said with a big smile once they got out of the blond woman’s sight and were all sited around a new table.

‘Qué?’ Rafa blurted, completely lost.

‘We figured you might appreciate some help’, Serena chuckled. ‘This woman is a total leech, we couldn’t just leave you there in good conscience.’

‘Sí, thank you’, the Spaniard muttered, blushing a little. Serena grinned and patted him on the elbow, before returning to her conversation with Caroline.

Rafa was relieved to let the girls do the chatting from that point, and just nodded from time to time to make it look like he was interested (even if, to be completely honest, he didn’t understand precisely _everything_ that was being said, between the tipsy giggles and the unfamiliar slang words). He once more lost track of Caroline’s tale of an afternoon she had apparently spent watching Netflix and, _relaxing_ with someone (Sí ?), when they were interrupted by the sound of a child crying. They all simultaneously turned in the direction the noise was coming from, and spotted a little girl with long blond hair running towards the table. Rafa felt his stomach drop in his shoes.

‘Isn’t that Fed’s kid?’ asked Caroline. Serena quickly nodded, before leaning in.

‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’ she inquired in a gentle voice. ‘Aw, you hurt your knee?’ she added as the girl came closer and they all noticed the droplets of blood trickling down her leg.

The kid totally ignored her, and kept on walking, bawling her eyes out. ‘Rafaaaaa!’ she gasped, and threw herself against the Spaniard’s legs.

Rafa swallowed and felt like there was a big lump in his throat. He looked around as the girl was hiccupping broken sentences in Spanish, and reached for her and settled her on his lap. He kissed her forehead a couple of times and whispered soothing words in a low voice while stroking her hair delicately. She buried her tear-streaked face in his shirt, but seemed to calm down after a few minutes. Caroline and Serena exchanged serious looks. What the hell was going on? The American had a million questions going through her mind, but spotting Rafa’s expression of pure distress, she chose to put them aside for the time being.

‘You think we can take a look at that knee now, sweetheart?’ she cooed.

The little girl turned her face towards her, and then looked up hesitantly at Rafa. Serena’s heart broke a little at the look he gave the child before smiling softly and nodding. The girl moved her dark green dress out of the way and showed the scratch to the three adults around her.

‘Aw, what a gash that is!’ whistled Caroline. ‘You’re quite the little adventurer, aren’t you?’

The girl giggled through the last of her tears, and threw a glance at Rafa again, who planted another kiss on the top of her head.

‘Well we will need to clean that, won’t we?’ added the Dane. ‘But I’m sure a big girl like you is really brave and won’t get scared at all!’ She winked, and the kid gave her a toothy smile.

Serena quickly went through her clutch, and took out a small bottle of saline solution, and a pack of Kleenex.

‘There’, she said, putting some of the liquid on a tissue, and reaching for the girl’s leg. However, she was stopped by Rafa, who took it from her hands and started cleaning the wound himself.

The kid made a face and gritted her teeth at the contact, but kept quiet.

‘I don’t think I have any band-aids though…’ the American sighed. ‘Caro?’ Caroline shook her head.

‘Is ok’, Rafa said softly. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, and pulled out a red band-aid with little reindeers printed on it. He removed the protective part and applied it gently.

The girls couldn’t supress their surprised looks.

The young man shrugged. ‘Not first time it happens, sí?’ was all the explanation he gave, as he resumed stroking the kid’s hair.

 

The little girl was in a much better mood now. She hanged herself on Rafa’s neck, and started talking his ear off in rapid and enthusiastic Spanish, while he smiled at her with such a look of adoration on his face that Serena had to turn away, somehow feeling she was intruding on something extremely private and precious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it guys, please let me now what you think :).


	2. Belinda

Belinda Bencic was in shock. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen. It couldn’t mean what she thought it meant, right? She took a minute to compose herself, and tried to bring her heartbeat back into control, reflecting on her next course of action. She knew someone had better warn Roger, but she could feel herself blushing just at the idea of approaching the Fed and making what would certainly be perceived as an intrusion into his private life. Still, she could not just say nothing. Even if she was not really _friend_ with Roger (despite him being extra nice to all the younger players, and even more so to the Swiss ones, she still saw him more as a legend than a real person), she definitively wanted to help him if she could. She scanned the crowd for the former number 1, when her gaze landed on Stan Wawrinka, who sat at a table, surrounded by French players. That could work, she thought. Stan was easy to talk to, and _he_ would certainly not feel reluctant to go to Rog. She still hesitated a little. If the thing with Nadal was what she thought it was, should she let Stan know? Or was he already aware of it? She took a last look around her. Well, since she couldn’t find Federer anywhere, Stan was probably the next best thing. She just hoped she wasn’t about to make the biggest blunder since the beginning of the Open Era. She inhaled deeply and started walking towards him.

‘Hum, Stan?’ she said softly, so the other guys didn’t hear too clearly.

He turned around and gave her a slightly inebriated smile. ‘Yeah?’

‘Any idea where Roger went?’

‘Euh… Somewhere over there’, he said, making a vague gesture in the general direction of the bar. ‘Roddick and his wife grabbed him to go get a drink. Why?’ he added, taking in the younger Swiss’ weird expression.

‘I, well… His, his daughter, she’s the cute little blonde with the green dress, right?’

Stan arched an eyebrow at the unexpected question. ‘I think, yes. Why are you asking?’

‘I think she got hurt and…’

‘What?!’ Stan interrupted, half rising from his seat.

‘Nothing serious!’ Belinda added in a rush. ‘She liked, scratched her knee or something, I think Serena and Caroline are patching her up right now…’

‘Oh putain. You scared me.’ Stan cursed, falling back on his chair. ‘Well I guess it’s ok, she will be fine with the girls and we’ll tell Roger when he gets back around here.’ He smiled again at the younger player and took a sip from his glass of champagne.

‘What is it?’ he sighed a minute later, noticing the worried looks Belinda kept sending into the crowd, and the way she was fidgeting and nervously biting her lower lip.

‘It’s just… Well… I mean it’s none of my business but…’

‘Oh come on! Just tell me!’

‘Well the thing is… She… She kind of came in running and crying and calling for Nadal. In Spanish.’

‘Merde!’ said Stan. He stood up and ran both of his hands through his hair. ‘What did he do? Rafa?’

‘Er, he picked her up, and gave her a kiss, and, I mean he answered in Spanish as well, and I… I figured it would be best to go get Roger before too many people heard and started wondering why on earth Federer’s daughter was crying in the arms of her father’s biggest rival, in a language he doesn’t even speak himself.’ Belinda shifted on her feet, slightly embarrassed.

‘Yeah for sure.’ Stan said quickly, placing a comforting hand on the blushing girl’s shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of it’, he added, before leaving in the direction Belinda had been staring at, squeezing his body through the crowd.

 

Belinda hovered for a minute next to the now empty chair, before snapping out of it and deciding to follow Wawrinka. She reached Nadal’s table a few seconds after him.

‘Uncle Stan!’ the blond little girl cheered happily.

‘Hey, honey. You want to come with me?’ he said, extending his arms towards her.

She twisted a bit on Rafa’s lap and searched the Spaniard face with her eyes. The latter frowned and tightened his grip on the child a little, in an almost automatic gesture.

‘Is fine, no? I take care of her’, he practically snarled.

‘Come on, you know it’s not a good idea’, Stan said in an apologetic tone. Belinda, Caroline and Serena all flinched at the pained look on Rafa’s face.

‘Is ok, no?’ he repeated. ‘She hurt, I take care. Everybody know I’m good with the kids. Not matter if she is Roger’s, sí?’ There was an almost pleading note in his voice.

‘Yeah, it’s true, but you cannot keep her with you all night, it will look strange for sure’, Stan said softly. ‘Everybody knows who she is, you really think nobody will be surprised hearing the two of you chatting in Spanish? And what if somebody posts a picture with you and her in the background on Twitter?’

Rafa hanged his head low at these words, his face closed off.

‘Look I know it sucks… But you guys said you wanted to keep quiet for now. You will regret it in the morning if something gets out.’

Belinda took a sharp breath in. So it _was_ what she thought it was. Un-fucking-believable. Questions started flashing through her mind. How long had it been going on? For god’s sake, how had they been able to keep _that_ quiet? Stan had known for a while, obviously. Who else was in on the secret?

‘Come on’, Stan insisted. ‘I’ll get her back to her d... I’ll get her back to Roger.’ Belinda’s heart literally broke at the raw pain in the Spaniard’s eyes, and the way his jaw was set, the little muscle under his ear twitching. It touched something deep inside her, and she swore to herself she would protect this very confidential information as best as she could. Rafa didn’t meet Stan gaze as he dropped a long kiss on the little girl’s head and whispered something in her ear, before lifting her in his big hands and handing her over to the Swiss. Stan sent him a sad smile and let the girl settle in his arms, before nodding to Serena and Caroline and, motioning for Belinda to follow him, he disappeared in the crowd.

 

Rafa twisted in his chair so his back was facing the room, and dropped his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. Serena laid a gentle hand on his forearm, but he didn’t move. All things considered, another hour-long lecture from Toni for ditching the whole evening would probably had been an okay price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what your thoughts are :)
> 
> I was thinking of adding a couple more chapters, if anyone is interested.


	3. Stan

Stan Wawrinka walked away from Rafa’s table with a heavy heart and his stomach in knots. He still hadn’t fully processed the events that had just taken place. He had been siting with the French guys, laughing with Benoit and unapologetically stealing sips of champagne from the bottle Gael had claimed ownership of a little earlier, when he had felt someone approaching behind him. He had turned around and had been surprised to see Belinda, looking a little stressed out. He liked the kid. She was a talented player and rather nice to be around, but she was still quite shy around the older Swiss players (mostly Roger, to be completely honest). He had bitten back a chuckle, wondering if the champagne flowing and the relaxed atmosphere had finally given her enough boldness to come and chat, without them initiating the conversation. However, when she had explained what had happened with Roger’s daughter, his heart had missed a beat. This wasn’t good at all. Rafa would not be careful enough, not with a crying kid reaching out for him. Hell, Stan himself couldn’t help melting in front of that child, and he wasn’t the one who put her to bed at night or who curled up with her on the sofa after lunch for a _siesta_.   Warning Roger was definitively not an option, he would run to his kid and lover immediately and that would only make things worst. There was no way anyone could see Rafa, Roger and the little one together without figuring out what was going on there. Not with those two goofballs looking at each other the way they did. Stan had then concluded that the only sensible thing to do was to go get the child himself. It wouldn’t look weird, everybody knew he and Roger were close friends, and he had been seen playing with her several times, including during the Davis Cup weekend a couple of weeks before. He would take care of her for a while and bring her quietly to her father.

As he had suspected, getting Rafa to hand the little blond over had been more than uncomfortable. He realised Rafa’s bitterness was not _really_ directed at him and that the Spaniard was resentful towards the situation more than anything else, but he couldn’t help feeling like a dick, walking away with the kid in his arms. He could almost swear he felt a pair of brown eyes burning holes in his back. He let out a long sigh.

 

‘What’s wrong Stanni?’ the little girl asked through a yawn.

‘Nothing, honey, I’m fine’, he answered, forcing a little cheer in his voice and bouncing her in his arms a couple of times to make her laugh. ‘Let’s get you to your dad ok?’

‘Ja’ she said, before putting her head on his shoulder. Stan chuckled at the language shift. With the amount of time she spent around Rafa, her Spanish was now almost as good as her Swiss German, and as she had been hanging out on the Tour from an early age, her English was probably better than Stan’s. Well, definitely better than Rafa’s, anyway.

 

He just had to find Roger and explain what had happened now, and they could all hope together than no one else than Serena, Caroline and Belinda had noticed anything and put two and two together. Rafa had not been totally wrong after all. He was known on the Tour for being a natural with children. There were numerous pictures in the Spanish media of him having fun with his little cousins, playing football or carrying them on his shoulders. Him and the girls taking care of an injured kid would not look to strange. Plus, Serena and Roger were friends, the American had met his daughter before. It would make sense that the little one went to her table once she spotted her. The only real give away was the Spanish-speaking thing. With a little luck, nobody had been close enough to hear and it would be fine.

 

 

Stan halted his steps, realising he still didn’t know exactly where his friend was. He looked over his shoulder, where Belinda was still tagging along.

‘Do you see Roger anywhere?’

The young woman stretched on her tiptoes and looked around.

‘Over there!’ she said after a few seconds, pointing to their right.

‘Great, let’s go!’ They started walking in that direction. ‘Look, about what just happened… You’ll be… discreet, right?’

‘Of course!’ Belinda said immediately. ‘You really don’t need to worry about me.’

‘Good’, Stan murmured.

 

~

 

‘Daddy!’

Roger startled at the familiar voice and turned away from his conversation with Andy Roddick.

‘Stanley! Looks like you found something of mine’, he winked, tickling his daughter’s cheek with the tip of his forefinger. The kid giggled and squirmed in Stan’s arms, struggling to escape the teasing touch. Roger reached for her and lifted her against his hip.

‘You remember Andy and Brooklyn, don’t you?’ The kid nodded, and waved at the couple, all smiles.

‘Look, Daddy! I fell on my knee!’ she chirped, wiggling her leg.

‘Again?!’ Roger sighed, pushing her dress away so he could inspect the damage himself. ‘Thanks for taking care of this, Stan…’ he started before falling silent when he took in the reindeer-adorned band-aid.

‘Didn’t do much. Serena and Caroline were the ones to help her.’

Roger swallowed hard and set his daughter on her feet. He leaned closer to his countryman.

‘Serena et Caroline?’ he asked, lowering his voice. The switch to French wasn’t lost on Stan.

‘Ouais… Et ton copain le roi de la terre battue…* She came running at them. Belinda noticed, went to get you and she bumped into me.’

Roger tensed at Stan’s words and stood straight. He turned towards the teenager.

‘Danke’ he told her, with a deep, meaningful stare, and trying to convey how grateful he was without attracting too much attention.

Belinda gave him a shy smile, blushing a little, but not (to her surprise) nearly as much as the former number one.

 

 ______________

   

*Yeah… And your friend the King of Clay…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today!
> 
> This chapter is rather on the short side, I know. Chapter 4 is almost completely done with, though, so you should get a quick update to compensate for that :)  
> The plan (for now) is to add two more chapters after this one, and then an epilogue. 
> 
> Please do let me know your thoughts ! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time,  
> Thanks for reading, guys!


	4. Roger

Roger Federer let out a long sigh as he laid back against the comfortable leather of the backseat of the Mercedes. On his right, his daughter had already fallen asleep, her head tucked against the seatbelt.

It was still relatively early (for this type of evenings at least), but the Swiss number One couldn’t find it in him to stay at the party any longer. He had been restless ever since Stan had discreetly mentioned finding his kid with Rafa. He had had to concentrate very hard to keep up with whatever Andy was saying after that and had eventually managed to excuse himself. The minute they were alone, he had started grilling Stan, desperate to know the details of what had happened. The younger man had explained calmly, attempting to reassure him as best as he could, but, no matter how hard he tried, none of his smiles reached his eyes.

When the tale of the events was over, Roger had stayed silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes. He had only snapped out of it when he had noticed his daughter’s head lolling on his shoulder, and her drooping eyelids.

‘I… I think we are going to turn in for the night.’

He had thanked the two other players profusely, clasping Belinda’s shoulder and hugging his doubles partner, tightening his hold on him a little stronger than he usually did.

 

After that, things were kind of a blur. He vaguely remembered getting their things back from the coat-check, and helping his sleepy child into her thick jacket, before getting into one of the cars provided by the event’s organisers. He had done all of that on autopilot though, too preoccupied to actually pay attention to his surroundings. A million things raced through his mind while they cruised towards the flat he had rented, but he felt so drained of energy that he had trouble thinking properly.

Rafa and him had always known it was not going to be easy. But lately, the secrecy of their relationship and all the stress it generated had seriously started eating at him. At the both of them, really. He could tell his lover was having a hard time as well, even if they both kept quiet for the other’s sake.

It wasn’t like that, in the beginning. They had gotten together almost three years ago, without planning for it to happen. They had started spending more time together after Roger’s divorce, and, somewhere along the line, their friendship had turned into something much, much deeper. Before he knew it, Roger had completely fallen for the Spaniard. They had kept it to themselves for several months, not because they were ashamed of their feelings, but because it still felt a little surreal in a way, and far to precious to share with anyone. Introducing Rafa to his daughter had come naturally. They had taken to each other immediately, and Roger was not surprised at all when the little blond had started babbling in Spanish. He could not think of anything better than walking into a room to find the two people he loved the most in the world quietly hunched over a book or cuddling on the couch. Once, he had come back to his hotel room a little later than expected, and had found them both asleep on his bed, Rafa splayed out on his back, one arm resting protectively around the child, who had curled up on his chest. He had positively melted at this sight, and couldn’t resist taking a picture. It was saved in a special file on his computer and he looked at it whenever he missed the young man too much. Which happened rather frequently. Keeping their relationship between just the two of them was certainly nice, but it also meant it was really difficult to get time together. They weren’t in the same place for an important part of the year – hell, not even on the same continent more often than not – and when they were, it was generally for a tournament, where there was always a lot of people around, and very little leisure time. Roger had the advantage of being able to ditch Seve and the rest of his team in the evenings without them protesting too much, but Rafa had a live-in coach, and wasn’t as free of his movements. Even when he was done with his training sessions, Uncle Toni usually stuck around and didn’t hesitate to ask him what he was doing if he mentioned going out. So after a year of sneaking around and stealing moments here and there, they had made the decision to tell their teams.

Most of the men they worked with had been surprised at first, but quickly expressed their support after the initial shock wore off. (Or at least, they knew better than trying to argue. After all, they were both known for being rather stubborn, Rafa had pointed out afterwards). Toni had stayed silent for a long while, arms folded on his chest, staring intently at his nephew and his newly announced boyfriend. Then he had shaken his head slowly, and asked what their plan was. Roger and Rafa had shrugged, not having thought further than coming out to their collaborators. Severin had jumped in at this point, to agree with the older Spaniard. Soon, all their team members had leagued together to convince them that they needed a detailed battle plan to deal with the media and the public opinion. Everybody’s advice had been that they had to keep their relationship under wraps for their careers’ sake. Rafa’s agent had insisted that the world wasn’t ready for a gay _male_ tennis player.

‘Sure, the mentalities are evolving’, he had said. ‘But this is professional sport we are talking about. It’s no coincidence that there is no ATP player out. Did you forget about Gasquet? The gossip alone caused enough damage!’

Roger and Rafa had looked at each other, a little overwhelmed. All of these things had been in the back of their minds, obviously, but they had not _really_ considered them until then. In the end, it was Tony Godsick, Roger’s agent, who had made the decisive point.

‘Think really hard before you do anything rushed Rog. If it gets out that you guys are together it’s going to be a fucking media circus. It will be all people talk about in interviews and press conferences for months. They’ll follow you around everywhere trying to get a juicy picture. Are you sure you want to put your kid in the middle of this?’

Rafa had flinched at that, and they had instinctively reached for each other’s hand. They had shared a long look, and then Roger had turned towards the rest of the room and had tried to keep his voice from shaking when he declared ‘Fine, then. We keep it quiet’.

The following months had been somewhat easier. With their teams knowing about them, they were able to see each other a little more, meeting more regularly in the evenings and having the liberty to spend the night at the other’s place without having to answer awkward questions. They did encounter some hardships though. First, the more serious their relationship grew, the more they felt the urge to claim their love to the rest of the world. Then, even with the improvements in their schedule, they still weren’t able to be together as often as they’d like. And there was the fact that no one knowing about them being a couple generally meant that people assumed they were single. This had resulted in a few uncomfortable situations, and had generated more than one argument. There had been one memorable time when Godsick had pointed out that Roger hadn’t been seen with anyone in a long time, and had casually suggested the Swiss take some girl (a model he knew from work or something) to the players party at Wimbledon. Rafa had clenched his fists, and even left the room, slamming the door, when the agent mentioned colour-coordinating Roger’s tie and the girl’s dress. Roger had immediately put his foot down and made it very clear that, yes, they had agreed to keep their relationship discreet, but there was no way in hell that they would start pretending to be with other people. The cold fury in his voice must have been convincing enough, because nobody ever brought it up again after that day.

 

‘Hum, Mr Federer? This is it…’

Roger was broken out of his thoughts by the driver’s voice, and realised that the car had stopped moving.

‘Oh, yeah, sorry.’

‘No problem, Sir.’

Roger unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached across the backseat to undo his daughter’s. He then got out of the car, and walked to the other side to take her in his arms, trying not to wake her in the process.

‘Thank you’, he added in the direction of the driver. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Sir.’

The Mercedes took off while he entered the building, struggling a little to take his keys out of his pocket without dropping his child.

 

The flat was quiet. He switched on the light in the living room, and then made his way into the semi-darkness to the second bedroom. He laid his daughter on the small bed and quickly changed her into her pyjamas. She groaned and moved around a little, but didn’t fully wake up. Even as exhausted as he was, he couldn’t help letting out a chuckle at how adorable she looked. He tucked her in, and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Stifling a yawn, he got out of the room, carefully letting the door halfway open, and headed out to his own bed. He shrugged his jacket off and hanged his tuxedo absent-mindedly, eager to get some sleep. There would be phone calls to make early in the morning (to Serena, to his agent, and probably to a few other people) and he would definitely need to check on Rafa. Knowing the young man, he was probably getting worked up about what had happened even more than Roger.

 

His last thoughts, as his head finally hit the pillow, were of his lover and how much he longed for his presence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And voilà for today. 
> 
> Up next : Roger and Rafa are finally reunited, so stay tuned ! :)
> 
> I am really grateful to anyone who shares their thoughts on this story with me, so please comment :)
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, thanks for reading, guys!  
> Until next time


	5. Roger & Rafa, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ! 
> 
> Sorry about the long wait, I've been super busy, finals are coming up, and things have been pretty hectic!  
> On top of that, I struggled big time with this chapter. For some reason I couldn't find the right tone for a while, and couldn't bring the story in the direction I wanted to. 
> 
> Anyway, I've finally got passed it, so yay! Chapter 5 was getting a bit long though and I decided to split it in 2, so you could have the first part right now. Part 2 is mostly done with, just needs some editing, so I'll try to post it on Sunday.
> 
> By the way, I haven't mentioned it before, but English isn't my native language, and this is unbetaed, so, sorry about any grammar or syntax error, I try my best! 
> 
> Without further ado, here's Chapter 5, part 1. Enjoy! :)

 

Roger woke up with a start in the middle of the night. He sat up in bed, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He looked around him, squinting through the darkness, and immediately noticed the ray of light under his door, coming from the living room area. He was certain he had turned that off before going to bed. His heart started racing in his chest. Nobody from his team was in town, there was only one other person who had a set of keys… He got up and exited his room quietly, telling himself not to get too excited. After all, it was possible that it was just his daughter who had woken up and had gone looking for a glass of water… But no, it wasn’t. There, on the floor of the entranceway, laid a discarded pair of sneakers, laces still tied and a couple of sizes too small to be his. Making his way to the open kitchen/living room space, he also spotted a Nike jacket thrown over the back of the couch. The owner of said items of clothing was nowhere to be seen, though. Roger, immediately guessing what that meant, headed towards his daughter’s bedroom. And as expected, there was Rafa. The Spaniard was leaning against the doorframe, his back to Roger, watching the child sleep silently. He didn’t move, not even when he heard his lover’s soft footsteps behind him.

 

Roger approached until he was only half a foot away from the younger man, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his T-Shirt clad back.

‘Hey’, he said, careful to keep his voice down. ‘I thought you were going back to the hotel with your uncle…’

‘I go with Toni. Then I come here.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m glad’, Roger whispered, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. He frowned a bit at the unfamiliar scent that clanged to the golden skin in front of him.

‘Have you been drinking?’ He couldn’t keep the note of surprise out of his voice, as he gently nuzzled Rafa’s neck. The other tensed up a little, and just shrugged. Roger slowly backed off, confused.  

‘Raf…?’

‘I upset, ok?’ the Spaniard answered somewhat sharply, finally turning around, but still not meeting Roger’s eyes.

The older man winced at the loud tone, and threw a glance into the room to check if the kid was still sleeping. Rafa ducked his head sheepishly, and closed the door without a sound, before grabbing his lover’s forearm and leading him back to the living room. There, he released his grasp and let himself drop on the couch.

Roger followed him gingerly, choosing the armchair on the other side of the coffee table.  The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The Swiss was puzzled. He had assumed that Rafael would be worried, and would maybe slightly freak out, but he had not anticipated this...anger? He was totally bewildered by the other man’s unusual reaction. He sat in silence, waiting for the young man to talk again.

 

‘She… she is hurt, Rogi’, Rafa eventually uttered in a weak voice.

Roger let out a nervous giggle. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

‘She is ok, Raf’, he said in a reassuring tone, a small smile on his face.

Rafa shook his head a little wildly and rubbed his face with both of his hands. ‘She was bleeding.’

Roger frowned. ‘She just scraped her knee, babe. It’s hardly the first time. You know how she is always climbing everywhere. She is just a lively kid you know, it was nothing.’

‘Could have been worse.’

‘Yeah but it wasn…’

‘Why you no watch her Roger?’ Rafa interrupted suddenly, raising his head and dropping his hands to his knees.

‘What?!’

‘Why you no watch her? Why you leave her alone?’

‘Oh come on, that’s not fair! She just went to play with the other kids, like always. I watched her, just not every _second_!’

Rafa muttered something between his gritted teeth, too low for Roger to catch.

‘What was that?’

‘I say, if I can be with her, I no leave, no?’

Roger’s eyes widened. ‘So _that’_ s what this is about?! You’re mad because you cannot be with her in public?’. Rafa shrugged, not meeting his lover’s eyes. Roger shook his head in disbelief. ‘Look I get it’s not easy for you, but this is bullshit! We made the decision together, we both agreed not to tell anyone. You don’t get to take your frustration out on me and blame me for any shitty thing that happens! Don’t pretend the reason you’re pissed off is that I let our kid be a kid!’

Rafa bowed his head, his gaze locked on his feet, his teeth worrying his lower lip.

‘Sorry…’ he said softly, his voice breaking a little. ‘I… Is… Is just so hard, no?’ He finally raised his eyes, and Roger was a little taken aback by the unshed tears that glimmered in the warm brown orbs. He felt his anger receding in front of his lover’s obvious distress.

‘Hiding you and me, I no like. But hiding with her, is really really though. That, I… I hate, Rogelio.’ Roger’s heart tightened at the broken tone and he crossed the room to sink on his knees in front of his boyfriend. He settled one of his hands on the Spaniard hip, and started stroking a tanned forearm with the other. ‘She come to me. I cannot say no, you know, not with the crying. I was scared of take her, but I no can leave her, Rog, I…’ Rafa mumbled quickly, his English more broken than usual, and his accent thicker than ever in his anguish. Roger slid his hand upwards until his lover’s cheek was cupped in his palm. ‘Hey, hey’, he interrupted. ‘It’s ok Raf…’ His voice shook a little as he felt hot tears on his fingers.

‘Oh, baby’, he whispered, as he stood up between his boyfriend’s legs and led the Spaniard’s head against his chest.

‘Sorry… I so sorry’, the younger man hiccuped, hugging Roger’s waist tightly.

Roger hugged back, his fingers massaging Rafa’s scalp. ‘No, no… Don’t be sorry. You did the right thing.’

‘I no could send her away.’

‘Of course not. It was a difficult situation, you did the best you could. I probably would have done the same thing. And… And maybe you were right… I mean, I _could_ have watched her better. I should have.’

Rafa broke out of the embrace and searched the Swiss’ eyes.

‘No. I was angry, no? I no really mean that. You say yourself, she do like all the kids.’

‘Yeah, but _we_ are not like all the parents, are we? Things are more complicated for us, I shouldn’t have put us in a situation where this kind of thing could happen.’ Roger took a couple of steps back, and ran his hands in his own hair in frustration. Rafa stood up abruptly, and a few seconds later it was his turn to grab his lover’s face, pushing him backwards until he had him pinned against the kitchen counter.

‘Rogelio. Is not your fault. Like you say, is just bad situation. Is nobody’s fault.’ He leaned and gently touched their foreheads. ‘Please. No more getting angry? I no wanna fight…’

‘Me neither’, Roger sighed, his eyes closed, his hands resting on Rafa’s sides.

He could feel wet spots on his cheeks, but was unable to say whose tears they were from. His tears, Rafa’s tears, tears of sadness, of exhaustion… He didn’t know anymore.

‘I just wanna be with you. I feel… bad, no? I tired, and scared, is all too much…’

‘I know. I’ve had this sick feeling in my stomach ever since Stan came to find me. I wanted to see you so bad. I’m really glad you came.’ They pulled each other even closer, hugging so fiercely it was nearly impossible to tell where one finished and where the other started.

‘What are we gonna do?’ Rafa breathed against Roger’s collarbone.

‘We are going to stop worrying for tonight. There is nothing we can do right now, so we might as well go and try to get some rest. We’ll call our guys first thing tomorrow morning, but there is no point torturing ourselves until then. And whatever happens, we are in it together.’

The Swiss had barely finished his sentence when he felt a pair of warm lips pressing against his own. His hands flew to the younger man’s shoulders as he eagerly opened his mouth. He couldn’t suppress a small groan as their tongues met and he was overwhelmed by the sharp tang of whisky, so unfamiliar on the man he loved, but amazingly enticing as well. When they broke up for air, Rafa joined their foreheads again.

‘Te amo, Rogi. Te amo tanto’, he panted, eyes plunged into his boyfriend’s.

They both remembered a time when Roger couldn’t keep a straight face when hearing Spanish, not even for a quick TV spot. They had long since realised, however, that Rafa breathlessly whispering “mi amor” in his ear had _quite_ a different effect on him.

‘I love you too’, he said hastily, sliding his hands under the Spaniard’s shirt. ‘God, Rafa, I love you.’

 

Little to no words were exchanged after that, their mouths too busy exploring each other while they tried to make their way to the bedroom without knocking down any major piece of furniture.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, that's it for today. Hope you liked it. 
> 
> As usual, please let me know what you think. I always enjoy getting your feedback, and it will be particularly important for me on this chapter, since I struggled so much with it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and keeping up with me despite the long break (I promise part 2 will come waaaay quicker),  
> Until next time


	6. Roger & Rafa, Part 2

Roger was still breathing a little faster than usual as he sat with his back against the solid oak headboard. Rafa was curled up against him, his muscular arms slung around his waist, and his head resting on the Swiss’ stomach, eyes closed, but not yet asleep. Roger ran his fingers tenderly in the soft hair in front of him. He chuckled when he felt the younger man lean into his touch.

‘That was nice. It’s been so long, I almost forgot.’ His teasing earned him an offended look and a snort.

‘Nice?! Was a little bit more than nice, no? But sÍ, too long. I wish we can be like that all the time.’ Rafa answered, nuzzling the toned abdomen again. He was met with silence, however, and he felt the hand that was stroking his head tense a little.

‘¿Cariño?’

The endearment broke Roger out of his muteness. He shrugged.

‘Well… We could. You know, if we wanted to.’

Rafa raised up on his elbow.

‘What you mean?’

‘It’s just… I can’t help thinking, maybe this was a sign, you know.’

‘Sign? Roger Federer no believe in no sign!’

‘Ok, not a sign then. But… I don’t know… It got me thinking, and… Maybe it’s time we move on.’

‘Move on?’

‘Yeah. I’m getting tired of this. It could be good, trying something new.’

Rafa sat up in panic. ‘You tired of us? Of me?’

‘What?! No, of course not!’ Roger shook his head frantically, reaching for his boyfriend’s hand. ‘That’s not what I meant, love. I’m just fed up with the situation, with the hiding, the secrecy. It made sense for a while, but lately I’ve been so sick of it…’ His thumb stroked soothing circles on the Spaniard’s wrist. ‘Not of you, though. Never of you.’

Rafa dropped back on the bed, letting out soft curses in Spanish in his relief. The two men fell silent once more.

 

‘So… You wanna tell? To the fans? The press?’

‘It’s not like I’ve already made up my mind or anything. It’s something we need to decide together. But I guess we need to think about it. It’s like, ever since we agreed to keep quiet, we’ve built up all these mechanisms to protect this secret without stopping to consider if it was still what we wanted. It’s been two years now, and we’ve never even questioned that decision. I’m not saying we have to change everything by the end of the week, I just think we should discuss it. We are in a different place now, there’s nothing wrong with asking ourselves if it’s still the best option for us.’

Rafa pinched the bridge of his nose, considering.

‘Sí, I think you are right. We talked with Godsick, and Benito, and with the teams, but we never talked just us together.’

‘You ever think about it?’

‘Yes. Sometime I wanna do things, but then I think is no possible, because of the secret. I wanna be with you all the time, but I worry someone will see. I worry everyday. I worry when we meet in public, I worry when I go to your house, I worry when we do the Skype, I worry when I lose my phone… Some days I just think, it be nice not worry, no?’

‘Yeah, I know. I guess I just realised tonight how scared I am. It only hit me in the car, but when I think about it, it was probably there all along. It’s like I’ve been feeling heavier for months, and it just dawned on me that I had these weights on my shoulders all this time.’

Roger rubbed his forehead a bit nervously, before continuing.

‘I know Toni and Seve both reckon that coming out would affect our games negatively, with all the distractions, the media attention and the stress it would generate… But I can’t help thinking that… Well, I mean, it’s not like either of us is playing that good at the moment, to be honest. And maybe all this tension has to do with that. Let’s be real, we are distracted anyway. We spend all this time and energy finding ways to sneak around, arranging stupid little details… If we went public, it would be really bad for a while, but maybe we could finally have some peace of mind after that. Like when you’re sick? Sometimes it needs to get worse for a day before it gets better?’

‘Sí, I think the same thing sometime. Toni say that they will say bad things, the press. Things that make us hurt and angry. And the fans too, at the matches. But I think, maybe is better to be angry than to be afraid, no? More aggressivity for the game.’

Roger let out a giggle at that, in spite of the serious mood that had settled over the bedroom.

‘And Benito… He say that it will be very bad, but I am no so sure. I am no stupid, I know the journalists will make a big story, for sure, and the fans, they be shocked. But I think, maybe the youngs, they not mind so much? And the press, they cannot write about us forever. The sponsors, they will not be happy of course, but they cannot break all the contracts for that, no? Not the ones from Europe, they no have the right.’

‘I’m not so sure about that, to be honest’, Roger sighed. ‘Legally they can’t. But these guys have excellent lawyers, they’re good at finding loopholes. And they don’t have to break the contracts, they can just choose not to sign new ones in the future. Maybe we will lose some of them. But not all of them. I can’t imagine Nike dropping the _both_ of us. Plus that would make very bad publicity for them. We can make a lot of noise around it, if it comes to that. Call Billie Jean King, she knows people. And those guys in the States, what was it… You Can Play, or something? And maybe they will be other brands willing to surf on that. Ones that target a younger crowd…’

‘So, we be fine, no? Maybe we lose a little money… But is not like we really need more anyway.’

‘We might be ok, yes. The truth is, there is no way to know. They aren’t many examples, especially not in individual sports, and…’ he hesitated a little, ‘especially not with people _that_ famous, you know?’

Rafa snorted at that.

‘God that sounded so bad out loud. But you know what I mean. There have been a couple of guys, but nobody people went crazy about. Ian Thorpe was quite a story for people who follow swimming, but it’s not like Michael Phelps came out or anything. They made a big deal about Michael Sam in the US, but I seriously don’t think it would be anything comparable.’

‘Ah, sí, he play the American football, no? Benito talk about him to me. He say coming out was very bad for the guy’s career.’

‘Well, he was drafted to a team in the NFL after coming-out, but he never really got to play… But the situations are totally different. It’s like, he was known _for_ being gay, for the most part. And it was just the beginning of his career. We are already, well, stars. We don’t have to prove that we are good players, not with over 30 Slam titles between the two of us. We were both number One. I mean, in a way, if we can’t do it, who can? It’s like, they _have_ to show some respect, don’t they?’

‘Yes, maybe they no can say things so bad to us. Not about the tennis anyway. And they no can make us not play. Is not like tournaments refuse for us to come. We make too much money for them, no? Plus tennis is not like football. No problem with the rest of the team. If guys on the Tour have problems with us, they are opponents, so no matter. And we have lot of friends, and the young guys, they are too shy for making comments in front of us. So, not too many to worry about.’

‘Yeah, I’m not too worried about that. There will probably be a couple of assholes, of course, but I think most of the guys will at least be polite. And frankly, I don’t give a shit if Stakhovsky doesn’t want to shower next to me anymore.’

Rafa raised up at that. He put his hands on the headboard on each side of Roger’s head, trapping the Swiss with a smirk. He eyed his boyfriend up and down.

‘His loss’, he said, raising one eyebrow, and leaning in for a kiss. They spent long minutes making out before coming up for air. They remained in each other’s arms while they caught their breath, Rafa straddling Roger, their chest pressed close and their foreheads resting against each other.

‘Why did you never tell me? That you were thinking about all this?’ Roger asked after some time.

Rafa sighed, backing off a little.

‘I don’t know… I think maybe you not feel the same… Maybe I just being stupid… And…’

‘And what?’ the older man propped gently.

‘And.. Well, when we agree to keep quiet, is because of what Tony say, no? Your Tony. That you no want your daughter in the middle of that. So… I no wanna make you in the position where you feel you need to choose, sí? Between her and me…’ Rafa hung his head sheepishly.

Roger shook his head immediately, and pulled the Spaniard closer.

‘It doesn’t feel like that at all. And of course I want to do what’s good for her and protect her, but that doesn’t mean you cannot talk to me whenever you need to, Raf.’ He emphasised that declaration with a quick peck on the lips. ‘And anyway, I think it will be better for her too. The situation today, it might happen again. I don’t want to have to ask her to be careful, to tell her she can’t come to you in public or any shit like that. She doesn’t understand the situation. I don’t know how to explain it to her, and honestly, I don’t want to. It’s one of the things that made me think about all this the most, you know? She is starting to ask questions. In Monte Carlo, she kept asking why we were watching your games on TV, she wanted to go to the courts with Maymo.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. And she was looking for you during my games at the US Open. Asked my sister why you weren’t in my box a couple times. It just seems so natural to her.’

Rafa hugged Roger tight. 

‘I no want her to be in the middle, with the press and everything. But I no want her to lie for us… I no want her to think we are doing a bad thing...’

‘I know. It will be best for everyone, being honest. We’ll protect her if it gets really crazy. She can stay in Switzerland with my parents for a while if it comes to that, the press is quieter there. But when it quiets down, it will be better. No need to lie, ever.’

‘So, we tell.’

‘We tell.’ Roger acquiesced.

They stayed silent for a few minutes. Then Rafa started laughing.

‘What?’

‘Is just… I feel better, no? More light.’

The Swiss chuckled as well. ‘Me, too.’

They laughed together for a while, finally letting go of the tension.

 

They eventually calmed down, and Rafa squirmed a little, repositioning himself between Roger’s legs. He rested his back against his boyfriend’s chest and tilted his head backwards to keep him in sight.

‘How we do it?’ he asked. ‘During the off season? During press conference? Australian Open, when we play together?’

‘We should talk with our teams about the schedule. The decision was ours to take, but we need help for the logistics.’

‘Sí, make them work a little, no?’

Roger snorted. ‘Yeah. But, I was thinking, maybe we give it a little time. Take it step by step. Prepare our families to what’s coming. Tell our friends. Then come out to the other guys on the Tour, the ones we know well. Test the waters a bit. And after that, we tell the press.’

‘Yes, is smart. I tell my spanish guys. Shock them like crazy, no?’

‘They really don’t know?’ he asked, surprised.

‘They know about me. That I like guys. Feli say he know the first time he see me. They don’t know I like _you_. Maybe Marc he suspect, no? But he never imagine you like me back.’

‘Not very observant, are they? But ok, let’s go for the Armada. Probably my Davis Cup Team, as well. Who else?’

‘Andy’

‘Murray?’

‘Sí. He must be nice. Or his coach will kill him.’

‘Oh right! I don’t think he will care, anyway. If he’s fine working with Amélie in the first place…’

‘Exactly. And maybe we no avoid each other in the locker room anymore.’

‘Let the rumors do the work for us? Why not. At least we will have our friends to support us when everybody realises…’

‘Sí. Good thing Spaniards are more scary than Swiss guys, no?’ Rafa teased.

‘Clearly you’ve never been confronted to a pissed off Stan. Just ask Kyrgios what he thinks about that.’

Rafa guffawed.

‘So, we call them tomorrow morning? Benito and Tony and the others?’

‘Yeah, we should. We need to deal about what happened at the party, and to tell them what we decided. But I think we should meet in person, all of us, both of our teams, to discuss all that. Maybe when we come back? I could take the jet and bring out all my guys to Mallorca if you want… We could take a few days of vacation together before going back to training…’

‘Sí, good idea’, the younger man said through a yawn, settling on the other side of the bed. ‘But first, sleep, no?’

Roger nodded quickly, sliding close to his lover, who snaked his arms around him. He fell asleep with his heart feeling lighter than it had in more than a year.

 

~ 

 

Rafa was woken up by a warm pair of lips pressing against his own.

‘¿Qué?’ he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

‘Sorry’, Roger said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘I couldn’t sleep anymore, and you looked so kissable over there.’

The Spaniard glanced in the direction of the window.

‘Rogi, is still dark outside’, he protested, trying to bury his face into his pillow.

‘I know. It’s just all the excitement, you know. About what we discussed earlier. I’m so, so happy.’

Rafa lifted the pillow. ‘How happy, exactly?’ he asked, suddenly interested.

‘How about I show you, mmh?’

  

A few minutes later, they had switched places. Rafa had his boyfriend pinned under his body, using his weight to keep him in place. He was planting wet, open-mouthed kisses on Roger’s throat and chest, his hands sliding lower and lower on the Swiss’ sides. Their movements were growing more urgent, when they were suddenly interrupted.

‘Daddyyyyy’, came a little voice from the other side of the wall.

‘Well, sounds like someone is up’, said Roger, giggling a little.

Rafa groaned, falling back on the bed and throwing an arm over his eyes.

‘You go!’ he warned.

‘Ok’, the older man answered, getting out of bed. He grabbed a pair of shorts in his bag. ‘You’d better put something on, though. There’s a 90% chance she’ll end up in our bed, especially once she realises you’re here. Take anything you need’ he added, gesturing towards his suitcase while he exited the room.

Rafa snorted and reached for his discarded boxers on the floor. His lover might have had brought enough clothes to last the both of them several days, but there was absolutely no way his ass would fit in any of Roger’s pants. His jeans from the day before would have to do when he’d finally get up, and maybe he’d steal a fresh shirt before leaving; a generic Nike one would work fine. He fussed over his hair a bit, listening to the voices chatting softly in Swiss German in the distance, the footsteps on the wooden floor, the sound of water running in the kitchen, when finally, the door to the bedroom opened.

‘Look who’s here!’ Roger said, switching back to English for Rafa’s benefit.

The little girl squealed in glee at the sight of the Spaniard sprawled out on the bed and threw herself on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Rafa winced at the impact, but closed his arms around her without a second thought.

‘¡Hola!’ he exclaimed, a little breathless but obviously thrilled to see her. Roger couldn’t help melting at this sight. His heart started racing when he realised this might become something they got to do often, now that they had taken the decision to stop hiding. No more staying in different hotels during tournaments, no more restricting his visits to Manacor, or the shared stays in his various houses. He felt like singing out loud when he went back to the kitchen to fetch breakfast items, but he didn’t want to miss the adorable conversation in a mix of Spanish and English that was happening a few feet away. He joined them a couple of minutes later, carrying a tray of food which earned him a warm welcome of two matching cheers of appreciation. He settled down, leaning next to Rafa against the headboard, their baby wriggling between them. He was almost overwhelmed by the happiness he felt, sharing this simple moment with the two people he loved the most in the world.

 

When the three of them were finished with their food, they all slid back under the covers, and his little girl snuggled against his side. The next minute, she was asleep again. He was getting kind of sleepy himself, and closed his eyes, thinking that he couldn’t be more at peace with their decision. He felt Rafa roll on his side, as close to them as he could get, and resting an arm over the both of them. The last thing he remembered was his lover whispering in his ear.

‘You’re lucky she distract me.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Sí. Next time, I show you _nice_!’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for the second part of this chapter. Hope you liked it. 
> 
> Please, let me know if you enjoyed it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the last part of this story. I really struggled with this one ; I couldn't find the right way to end this for a while. Ever since I started writing this fic, though, I had planned for the epilogue to take place on the day of Wimbledon's final, so I really wanted to post it before the end of the tournament. I pushed myself to finish it, but I still feel a bit weird about it... I hope you will like it anyway.

 

 

_7 months later, on the day of the Wimbledon final_

 

 

‘Today is definitely gonna be a big day, you know!’ Roger Federer’s voice resonated on Center Court, as a 10 feet version of himself grinned on the giant screens. His eyes twinkled when he looked straight into the camera, before the pre-recorded interview ended and the score board replaced his smiling face.

In the stands, the crowd cheered at his words. It was a big day indeed for the Fed’s fans. For any tennis fan, really. A new record of 18 Grand Slam titles seemed so close, almost inevitable now, and the atmosphere was electric. After 2 weeks of hope and trepidation, it was starting to sink in that they were probably about to witness an historical moment and the stadium was buzzing with excitement.

 

In the Swiss’ player’s box, Severin Lüthi chuckled to himself and shook his head. He might have had his reservations about the young men’s project at first, but seeing his charge so happy was proof enough that they were doing the right thing. Roger had been all smiles all week long, and his level of dorkiness - which was already quite high to begin with - was off the charts. Rafa provided a nice distraction, but he did have to attend his own matches and practises, so, more often than not, Seve had been left to deal with an overly mischievous Rog on his own.

‘I deserve a pay raise,’ he grouched, his eyes still on the screens. He should have known his player wouldn’t be able to resist teasing the audience a little. It certainly explained the smug look on his face when had joined his team for lunch after recording this interview in the morning. Oh it was going to be a big day alright. Whether he won the tournament or not, Roger would sit in a press conference that evening. And whether he won or not, Rafa would sneak in at some point, and they would announce their relationship to the world.

 

It had been a long time coming now. Seve remembered clearly that day in november. It was a couple of days after a charity dinner in the States, and Roger and Rafa had dragged their teams on Roger’s plane without any explanation. When they landed near the Spaniard’s house in Republica Dominicana, he had shared a look of surprise and apprehension with Toni Nadal. They had immediately understood that something big was about to happen. Once they were all settled in the house, the two young men had asked everybody to regroup in the living room, because they had to tell them something. They were both pretty nervous, and Seve was reminded of the day they had revealed their relationship. Whatever it was they wanted to say, it was serious.

‘Well, at least we’re sure that none of them is pregnant,’ he had heard Rafael Maymo mutter, before Toni silenced him with a stern look. Rafa was fidgeting, really anxious now that he facing them all, so Roger had taken the lead. He had rapidly related the events of the charity gala, and then announced in a calm and composed voice that they had decided they didn’t want to hide anymore, and that it wasn’t up to discussion. Everyone had started talking at the same time, but after a few hours of conversation, they had come to an understanding, and had started organising everything. Today was the last step, the day they would blow everybody’s mind. Seve couldn’t wait to see the faces of the journalists when they realised Roger had trolled them with his comment.

 

The swiss coach was drawn from his reminiscences by some movement behind him. Tommy Haas and his wife were making their way into the box and settling on the second-row seats.

‘Hello, Schatz!’ Sara said in a cheerful tone, as she took in Roger’s daughter who was waving at them enthusiastically, a big smile on her face. ‘Look how grown you are! I swear, you’re at least a head taller than the last time we saw you!’

Tommy chuckled as the child puffed her chest out proudly. She looked teeth-rottingly sweet in her all-white miniature tennis gear. Nike definitely knew their way to the Fed’s heart, the German couldn’t help but notice.

‘Excited to see Papa’s big game?’ he winked, leaning in to ruffle the neatly tucked blond hair. The kid bat his hand away, and planted her little fists on her hips, holding her chin up and doing her best to look fierce.

‘Papa is not playing!’ she protested in the most serious voice a 6-year-old could muster, a genuine look of confusion on her face.

‘Sure he is!’ Tommy laughed. ‘Look!’ He crouched next to her and pointed to the large flat screen across the court. It currently displayed a list of Roger’s statistics, as well as a large picture of his face, headband in place and everything. The child’s eyes followed his finger and fell on the photo. Her features immediately relaxed and she started giggling.

‘No silly! That’s Daddy! Papá is coming with the drinks!’

It was Tommy’s turn to frown in confusion, and he had opened his mouth to inquire further, when he noticed Rafa Nadal taking long strides towards them, bottles of cold water in hand. The kid squeaked in glee, turning away from the German couple, and Tommy felt his jaw fall even more open. Rafa quietly slid into the box and lifted her in his arms, before greeting the Haases a little awkwardly. Sara recovered first and answered gracefully, with a warm tone, and her eyes twinkling, while Tommy acknowledged Nadal with a nod, not fully trusting his voice yet.

Severin observed the scene unfolding before his eyes with a knowing smirk. Tommy had always been a good friend of Roger’s, and he and Sara had immediately expressed their support when the Swiss had revealed his and Rafa’s secret. But even so, there was a huge difference between knowing and seeing. He was distracted by Rafa, who poked him in the ribs with one of the water bottles. He took it with a grateful nod. The Spaniard settled down in the seat next to his, with the little girl propped on his right knee.

 

~

 

A loud cheer erupted from the stands as the players walked onto the court. Roger held up a hand as he headed to his bench. He carefully settled his racket bag and his large Nike holdall on the floor, before arranging his towels and water bottles. The cameras zoomed in on him as he scanned the public. When his eyes fell on his box, his face lit up. He grinned and waved at his child and boyfriend. Everywhere in the stadium, people stretched their necks to see who he was looking at. The crowd fell silent as Rafa’s presence was finally noticed. You could read the shock on the many faces around them. Everybody had assumed he had gone back to Mallorca the day after his loss in the quarter finals, as he usually did. For a minute you could have heard a pin drop on the grass. Then, hurried whispers started coming from all directions, immediately followed by the flashes of the powerful cameras in the press area. Rafa flushed a little but did his best to try and ignore the lenses pointing towards him, raising a hand in front of the kid on his lap to protect her eyes from the lights.

Fortunately, the players and chair umpire finally made their way to the net for the coin toss, and most of the audience and journalists returned their attention to the court. The whispers never quite died down, though, and, from the corner of his eye, the Spaniard still noticed people around them stealing an occasional glance. He was determined to forget about it, and he distracted himself by pointing at his boyfriend, who was warming up, and quietly explaining things to the little blond snuggled up against his chest. He kept it in English out of regard for Lüthi, and the Swiss added a comment from time to time.

As usual, the older man was calm and composed, keeping his eyes on his charge as the match began. Rafa, on the other hand, was feeling more and more nervous, and started fidgeting in his seat as Roger hit his first serve. The back of his shirt was already damp from the sweat and he had to fight the urge to bite his nails. He was grateful for the presence of the child next to him, as she provided a good distraction from his stress. He divided his attention between his boyfriend and her, answering all her questions, and taking the time to explain some details. As the match went on, however, he started to lose himself in the tennis, and to forget everything around them. His excitement was slowly taking over his tension. He was just focused on the moment, on Roger dominating his opponent, and he let go of his everyday troubles, of his worries about the press conference to come. He stopped seeing all the faces staring at him avidly at every change of side. The murmurs of “Rafa is here!”, “What is Nadal doing with Federer’s team?”, “Oh my, what is going on?” faded to a background noise. He barely noticed the cameras turning to him as he found himself on his feet, fist pumping into the air to celebrate the win of the first set.

At some point, the kid crawled back onto his lap. As much as she loved her dad, the match was getting a bit long for a 6-year-old, and she had started wriggling a while ago. Rafa mumbled comforting words as best as he could, his eyes remaining riveted to the ball. She busied herself with playing with his hair for a while. She probably deemed the brown locks unsatisfactory because she took her red monogrammed cap off, and put it on the Spaniard’s head.

 

~

 

Today was a big day indeed. The crowd was positively wild. Roger was trying and - unsurprisingly - failing to hold back his tears as he raised the trophy above his head, after shouting to the world how grateful he was for his _family_ supporting him in the stands. And Rafa, Rafa had no words. He had felt happy, extremely happy, many times in his life. With every trophy he had lifted, he had thought his heart was going to explode in joy. But for all his titles, all his achievements, he had probably never felt as proud as he did right now, cheering for the love of his life, clapping so hard his hands hurt, their daughter in his arms and an RF cap pulled deep down on his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, this is the end of this story. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. 
> 
> I do like this AU very much, so I was thinking of writing a few one shots to go along with this fic. I'll probably post them separately. Let me know if you'd be interested. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and following this story! <3


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